


Seem Wicked

by bgoodg



Series: People are Strange [2]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 14:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bgoodg/pseuds/bgoodg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike Ross thinks he knows predators. Then he meets Harvey Specter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seem Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction and not written for profit. The characters mentioned belong to their respective creators and owners. No defamation is implied

"What kind of job are you looking for?"

At this point, seventeen year old Mike is little more than elbows and knees. He has a black eye and sore ribs; there's little to be done when your best friend sells pot and decides to smoke it instead of selling it. Mike, because he is still at the point where forgiving Trevor is a compulsion, can only think about how if he was one of the kids in a town home or condo, he could have given Trevor the money instead of watching his best friend got beat to a pulp. 

Money is obviously the source of his problem. 

"If it pays," Mike says, "I'm interested."

***

They start him on small things. Running the numbers is first because Mike can remember everything without writing it down and producing incriminating evidence. He knows the scores and point spread and how much each loser owes. People start coming to Mike to pay because he says things like close game and better luck next week. 

Mike gets a pay raise and starts having regulars to collect from. Most people don't give Mike any problem; they know the rules and that losing means paying up, with money or broken bones is their own choice. There's a couple of people who earn Mike's sympathy. There's a real estate manager who's in danger of losing his home and wife. Mike gives him the two extra days he needs to make the payment and refuses to take anymore bets from him. Mike thinks Russell is another one of those cases, just a down on his luck gambler who only has his family bar left.

"I know we can work this out Mikey, can I call you Mikey?"

Mike nods, walking into the alley behind the bar and not seeing the baseball bat.

He lands flat on his face, stars sparkling in his eyes and ears ringing. 

"This the boy?"

"Well I sure fucking hope it's the bookie since you just knocked him out," Russell says. "It's him though. The Donnelley's must think I'm some kind of pussy, sending such a little shit to collect. Finish the job. We still gotta dump the body, make it look like the Ways jumped their collector for the money."

Mike moves before bat connects with his skull. They weren't expecting him to be use to taking beatings. He finds the piece of metal stuck in the trash and swings. And just. keeps. swinging.

After that, he's not so compassionate. 

***

The first time he's sent to kill a man, not to break his fingers or his kneecaps but to put a bullet through his heart, Mike wears a suit. He puts two bullets through the back of the man's skull as the mark is taking a piss. The sound is absorbed by the silencer, tiled wall and gala upstairs. Mike walks away from the scene, downs a glass of champagne and catches the next train. 

***

The day Mike meets Harvey, he's not carrying a briefcase full of pot. The days of Trevor are over. Instead, there's a human hand wrapped in cellophane but still obviously a hand.

"That's, uh. That's a prop," Mike says. 

"You're a terrible liar," the man in the suit responds. "I'll teach you how to be better at that."

***

Apparently, the teaching includes Mike faking a Harvard degree and reading a lot of law books. Figures becoming a better liar would involve becoming a lawyer.

***

"You guys have forum groups?"Mike asks. "Isn't that a little dangerous?"

"We have very strict rules," Harvey says. "I did help make them after all."

***

Mike knows from the moment Harvey tells him to close his briefcase instead of calling the cops, that something about Harvey is different. Mike knows the look of a tough guys, the way they move and talk. Tough guys are all aggression and veneer. The true predators are the ones who hide in plain sight.

***

"It's quicker," Harvey says, taking the knife and mimicking slicing the bound man, "if you move like this. If you want them to die slowly, and I can not stress how sure of privacy you need to be, then go like this."

The bound man's eyes widen, his body shaking the small chair he's tied to.

Harvey places his polished shoes on the edge of the chair. He looks over the man and smiles. "Of course there's always the eyes, full of texture when they pop out."

Mike watches. His hands ache not for the knife, but for a pen, something to capture the moment. Mike's seen Harvey in the courtroom. He dominates in front of the jury but he shines in front of his victims.

***

"You are such a snob," Mike says, slurping his take out Thai.  He's only in sweatpants, enjoying the looks he gets from Harvey as the man's eyes roam his chest.

"I'm a what?"

"A snob. You look down on contract killers like me, oh they just do it for the money. So what, you're morally superior in the game of murder?"

"I don't think morals are involved at all," Harvey says. He takes Mike's bowl and sets it on the counter. "Do you know why I quit the DA's office?" Harvey places one hand on each side of Mike, pushing his thigh in between Mike's legs.

His dinner is forgotten, Mike feeling the connection go through his entire body.

"I thought it would make me better at first. I'd get my fill of death and destruction at work and wouldn't have to bring it into my personal life. But do you know what I felt, sitting across from all those criminals?"

Mike shakes his head. Harvey grips Mike's hips and lifts him onto the counter. There's no where for Mike to go.

"Contempt. Not for their actions but because they got caught. Didn't they know to wear gloves? To not drive around in the dead man's car? Hadn't they ever seen an episode of Law & Order?" Harvey shakes his head. "What a bunch of amateurs."

***

It's not that Mike stops taking jobs. He just takes them a lot less. Harvey likes to ask for details, to pull them out of Mike as he strokes Mike's cock.

"Where'd you put the body?"

"The river," Mike breathes. "Teeth pulled, fingertips cut off. Weighted the body at both the foot and head."

"Good boy," Harvey says and goes in for a kiss.

***

The next time, Mike notices the baseball bat. He swoops to the ground, rolling to his feet with the two goombas in front of him. 

"What the hell do you want?" 

There's security at the office: both a night guard and 24-hour surveillance. But Mike knows from experience that the guard takes a nightly 30 minute trip to the bathroom thanks to some gland issues. Mike's on his own and all because he wanted to bring some work home with him.

"Mike Ross, you're not looking too shabby for some numbers runner."

Mike recognizes each man as members of the Way's family. Retaliation? For what? Mike hasn't touched any of their kind. 

"While you've been living large there's been some restructuring back home."

"The Ways took over," Mike says. He knew war was coming, he just didn't realize it'd be over so soon.

"It was a bloodless coup," one of them says. "Bloodless for our side at least. A changing of the guard you might say."

"So what?" Mike says, "You want me to work for you guys now?"

The two exchange a look and a pit of ice forms in Mike's stomach.

"Not exactly." 

Mike senses the movement instead of seeing it. It's just the feeling of another presence, one that Mike fights not to give away.

"You see, you know things about the Donnelley's. You've shown loyalty to them and well, we got our own killers." They both laugh at this. "Nothing personal, just business." 

"That's where you're wrong," Mike says. "Killing is the most personal you can get."

The lights go out as Mike stands. He hears the men jump and reach for their guns, the intake of breath and swish of leather giving them away. Mike stays where he is, letting Harvey come to him.

Harvey places the blade in Mike's hand, the other curling around his hips. He leans in close and whispers, "Which one do you want?"


End file.
